The Antihero
by Red Shagging Couch
Summary: Rogue/Gambit. -DISCONTINUED-
1. Preface

**Title**: The Antihero

**Summary**: The slightest change can rewrite an entire lifetime.

**Rating**/**Warnings**: T (for terrific?); violence and sexual situations will be posted as a warning beforehand in every chapter.

**Authors'** **Notes**:

_It was hard choosing a universe to write in (comic, evolution, wolverine, movie, etc.) but we finally settled with the movies. Obviously there will be a bit of paraphrasing in the first section, as we cannot remember everything that happens in the film after just a couple of watches_. –**Alysa**

_Read and review, por favor_. –**Isabel**

**Standard Disclaimer Applied. **

* * *

_**Preface**_**:**

* * *

**Logan-**

Slowly, a pair of hazel eyes open with effort. They are greeted with the sight of a hazy and dull sun. Orange and yellow dusted-clouds border ever corner of the sky.

A man quietly lifts himself off the ground to stand in the middle of a wasteland. The soil below him stands firm beneath his boot-clad feet, though littered with the obvious sight of destruction.

The man looks around him, his mind searching for something recognizable, something to cling onto, something that will link him to the scene.

Nothing clicks and nothing looks familiar. The man's face scrunches into an automatic scowl, dissatisfied with his lack of knowledge. With his lack of identity.

Taking notice of the dog tags hanging around his neck, the man quickly overcomes a moment of hesitation before reading the small clips of metal.

'_Logan_. ' '_Wolverine_.'

The names mean nothing to him. He wonders briefly if these are his names before he hears the drawl of a southern accent behind him.

His muscles tense at the approach of another person, and on instinct growls lowly. "Who are you?" he demands.

He doesn't recognize the man and feels a surge of defensiveness run its course though his body.

The second man stares curiously and confused at him for a split second; a befuddled expression crossing his face. Slowly, warily, he replies, "It's me, Gambit. The man who brought you here." He speaks with a hesitance that disturbs the other man.

Uneasiness is bloomed. Instantly the nameless man feels a powerful –almost animal-like- defensiveness overpower his thoughts. He reaches out to Gambit (if that was his real name), his fingers grasping his shirt roughly into his fist, "What's my name?" though the question was meant to come out as a demand, the slight panic that managed seep through out of his mind and into his words were evident. "What's my name?!"

Gambit raises his hands in surrender. "Logan." He says this reassured, "You're name is Logan."

Slowly, Logan releases the other man from his grip. "Logan." The name doesn't bring up anything to mind.

In fact, nothing did. His conscience was like a dark cave; seemingly endless, yet empty. Attempts at pulling back any type of memory were proved fruitless. He couldn't remember a single moment of his life before opening his eyes, just hardly a minute ago.

His throat closed up with dryness, and subconsciously, he clenched his hands into fists. Gradually, released his fingers and flexed them, a movement that his body felt so familiar to, but his mind could not place.

Somewhere in the background, he could hear sirens creeping up dangerously close.

"We need to get out of here. The authorities ain't gonna like what you've done here." Gambit's Cajun accent was growing thicker with hurry.

Logan's eyes ran across the field in wonder. He did this? He did all this? How was that possible?

His sight landed on a body. One that lay merely a few yards away from him. How could he have missed that?

Walking towards the limp figure, Logan knew- though he didn't know how- in an instant that the woman on the ground was dead.

Bright blue eyes stared up at him. Emotions alien to him were rushing like waves all over him at once._ Despair, regret, guilt, longing. _

"Is she…?" Gambit spoke from behind him.

"Yes." He answered abruptly.

He leaned down to close her eyes, the ones staring at him lifelessly. He feels like he knows her, like he should know her. But everything in his mind is so blank, and he has no clue whether or not his feeling come from his past or just the obligated feelings of witnessing a death.

The sirens were getting closer.

"We need to get out of here." Gambit urged on.

He looked down at the body of the woman with long dark hair and bright blue eyes, and sighs. "You go." He pauses, and then confirms his decision. "I have to find my own way."

Seconds later he hears footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

Then a moment later, he turns, and walks away in the opposite direction.

---

It wasn't until weeks later that Logan found out about his inhuman capabilities.

Going rogue was shockingly easy. Let alone the fact that Logan had no former ties and boundaries to link himself to the past in figuring out who he was, he grew accustom to letting the world develop on without him.

A man without a past wasn't the easiest role to play, but he got by. Searching for an identity was futile, regardless of his rather _unique _abilities.

Soon enough, it seemed that nothing was to become permanent to the man. A natural nomad, like maybe in a previous life, he always thought, amused.

With no real identity to hold him down, Logan traveled back and forth, never looking back, never growing attached.

Living conditions weren't easy though. Without any money, it was hard to keep on moving forward with no standard resources. So Logan opted for doing what his gut instinct had been itching to do since the moment he first opened his eyes that one tortuous day that seemed to fall further and further into his mind with each passing day. He fought.

He didn't know what made him so invincible. What made him to immune to the punches and kicks that landed on his body; all he knew was that nothing seemed to really slow him down.

His body worked with him. Yes, a punch would hurt, but not as much as it hurt the person who dared to swing a fist at his seemingly-metal skull.

Logan didn't know what was under the surface of his body that could call upon metal claws on defensive instinct or what gave him almost super-human strength, but he didn't complain.

Whatever helped him win the fight (and win money) was fine by him. He couldn't complain.

So eventually he grew into a custom routine of dropping from dirty bar to bar, engaging in cage fights that he knew he could easily win. His body knew the rhythm of fighting, like a long-forgotten hobby.

An hour letting the bets grow higher and higher in his favor, a collection of debts, a couple of beers to lay off time while his small wounds healed themselves automatically, and then he would hit the road again.

Things weren't bad this way. It wasn't the life he wanted and he didn't know if it was the life he had before…but, things weren't bad this way.

---

Though Logan didn't know what lay beneath his skin, his subconscious certainly did. Nights in his small, wet trailer were pledged with nightmares that usually led to him having to light up a cigarette or two to calm down his nerves.

His dreams usually started the same. There were always the feelings of anguish and hatred. Then there would be flashes that passed by instantaneously, of men in lab coats talking in mixed words. He would feel burst of pain randomly through out his body, though mostly through the pounding and drilling sensation of his skull being punctured.

And then there was that girl again. The one with the bright blue eyes and long brown hair. She would be in his nightmare, always the last thing to come to his mind. She would be staring at him, smiling and saying his name over and over again. "Logan…" she would say, "Logan, wake up…" like she knew his pain; like she knew he was trapped in the middle of his own nightmare.

* * *

**Marie-**

Her breath mingled slightly with his, as he leaned in closer. Her eyes fluttered softly, almost hesitantly. His hand reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Marie…" he murmured, his whisper playing across her lips slowly.

She let out a sigh as a response. Her shoulders relaxed with his touch. She leaned in closer, slowly filling up the little space in between them. His lips lightly brushed against hers. With a small gasp, she leaned in once again, this time pressing her lips more firmly against his.

She heard him gasp, and took it as a sign to lean into him more. She broke them apart, leaning her forehead against his in contentment.

Cody took in deep breathes of air, trying to fill up his lung with oxygen, but was overwhelmed with the feeling of being drowned. His arms fell limp and stiff. The more gasps of air he tried to take in, the worse he felt; still, the need for oxygen was too strong, and he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to.

"Cody?" His brain felt damp and soggy, processing things heavily and slowly. "What's wrong?" In a distance, he could hear Marie's frantic voice calling out to him. "Cody?"

His body trembled with shock. He couldn't breathe! Why couldn't he breathe?

Her voice grew into a scream as he felt his body weakly fall off her bed.

Marie climbed after him and got down on her knees, shaking the collapsed boy with desperation. Her bare fingertips unknowingly drawing thick veins up to meet at her touch.

"Cody? Cody what's wrong?" Tears gathered up at the corners of her eyes, the feeling of panic rising in her chest. Her heart was beating so wildly with fear, it felt as if it were about to explode any second.

"I need an ambulance!" she screamed, praying that somebody, anybody, would hear her from downstairs. "Help! I need an ambulance!"

Footstep could be heard climbing up the stairway leading into her room. "What happened?" She looked up to see her mother standing at the door.

Finally, the sob that had been building up in her throat was released and tears sprang from her eyes. "Something's wrong! He won't wake up! He won't wake up!" she cried, grasping onto the trembling body on the floor.

She tightened her hold on him, laying her own body over him protectively. She felt for anything. A slight flinch, a movement in his fingers. Anything. But all she could feel was the slight tremble that seemed to be getting weaker and weaker by the second.

His body, which just a minute ago was so warm against her lips, was freezing cold and stiff. In only a matter of seconds his body had dropped in temperate.

"Marie get off him! I'll call an ambulance, just get off of him and let the boy breathe!" her mother cried, rushing back downstairs.

Cody was shaking more violently and Marie was forced to climb off his body and releasing her hold on him.

It all came flooding to her on an instant. Memories, thoughts, feelings, strength. It overwhelmed her body, making her squeeze her eyes in fear.

Every little sensation, every little aspect of Cody's life was overlapping her own. Her mind felt invaded and she could faintly hear the sound of Cody in the back of her mind screaming.

"I called nine-one-one; they're on their way right now." Her mother was standing in the doorway again.

"Mama?" Marie staggered a bit, trying so desperately to control the flashes of memories and thoughts that weren't her's.

"Marie, what _happened_?"

"Mama?" She squeezed her eyes more tightly together. It wasn't out of pain, but the fear of being lost in her own mind was soon becoming a reality to her.

"Marie, what's wrong? Marie? Marie!" her mother's frantic voice was all she heard before finally her brain shut down and she lost all consciousness.

---

There were times that Marie would wake up and then slip right back into her own mind.

The first time, she found herself in an ambulance. Paramedics were pressing a cold, latex gloved-clad hand against her throat, checking for a pulse.

The second time, she was in a hospital bed, and she could barely make out the sound of her mother and father taking in hushed tone with whom she presumed was her doctor.

And the last time, still in a hospital bed, Marie was able to overhear her mother and Cody's mother, talking. Someone was crying softly and croaking out, "He's not going to wake up. He's not going to wake up." Over and over again.

---

Finally, the last time Marie woke up, it was for good. Though her head felt fragile with a pounding headache and her body felt limp and weak, she was able to stubble onto her feet.

The coldness of the tiles on the floor sent shivers through her body. The room was plain white and discomforting; it was like something out of a thriller movie.

Noticing the small pile of clothes on the chair next to the hospital bed, Marie quickly slid on the shorts and t-shirt, feeling awkward about the thought of leaving the room in only the patient gown.

Opening the door slowly, Marie walked out of the room, her eyes searching for anyone familiar. Wandering off, she found herself in the middle of a nurse's station.

"Ma'am?" she caught the attention of a middle-aged woman in light blue scrubs. "Do you know where Cody Robbins' room is?"

The woman's mouth was pulled into a tight smile. "Are you a friend of Cody's?"

Marie nodded. There was no need for her to elaborate.

"His room's right down the hall to the left, C17. Though you better hurry, visiting hours are almost over."

Marie walked off after a muttered thank you.

Finding the room was easy, it was opening the door and walking through that was hard. She hadn't thought about it before, but what if she had something to do with his seizure –or whatever it was that happened- to him? Though that still didn't explain the sudden random flashes she had running through her mind that day. But maybe that was just all in her imagination. Because really? How could she have taken part on anything that happened to him?

Taking a deep breath, Marie opened the door and walked in, firmly closing the door behind her.

She gasped and tightly clasped her hand around her mouth so that she wouldn't be able to make another sound.

There was Cody, still as pale as ever, lying motionlessly on the hospital bed, with practically a million wires and needles hooked up all over his arms.

"Oh Cody…" she whispered, tears wielding up at the corners of her eyes. She slowly sat down next to him, conscious of ever sound she made. "What happened to you?"

A sob rose in her throat and threaten to spill out.

She reached over, and nervously placed her hand over his.

A second later, another flash that she was terrifyingly familiar with streaked through her mind. Shocked, she pulled her hand away from Cody's. The heart-rate monitor next to her was going wild.

What just happened? Her heart was racing along with his. And more importantly, why was this happening to her?

Slowly, she inched her hand closer to his, concentrating. Placing merely her finger tip on his bare skin, the same sensation that had overcome her before was thriving to wash over her now. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of veins on his hands and wrist coming up to meet where her skin touched his. Slowly, more veins, thicker this time, rose and spread along his arm.

Realization hit home. "I did this to you?" she asked fearfully. "Oh Cody…I'm—I'm so sorry…"

---

Hours later, Marie found herself at her town's small and only train station, with a duffle bag filled with all the money she had and only a week's worth of clothes.

She pulled her green hoodie closer to her body, and careful not to have any skin to skin contact with any other passengers, guiltily boarded the last train of the day, not caring where it took her.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Antihero

**Summary**: The slightest change can rewrite an entire lifetime.

**Rating/Warnings**: T (for tremendous?); average Logan-style fighting, nothing too big and a little bit of profanity too.

**Authors'** **Notes**:

Remy will show up again in either the next chapter or the one after that. Depending on how long I drag it on. –**Alysa**

**Standard Disclaimer Applied.**

**Thanks** **to**: bri419, RogueNya, Ace, bologna121, ChamberlinofMusic, Hawaiichick, gambitfan85, RomyLover, Dark, AshmandaLC, Skye Knightley and coup fatal. And Cecy for proofreading.

_**Chapter One:**_

To say that time seemed to drag on forever from train ride to train ride would be the understatement of the year. Time had, instead seemed to stop all at once.

The rides were bumpy, cold and uncomfortable. Marie wasn't sure how much longer she could take the overbearing crowds and little privacy. Though soon enough the decision was made for her. With not much money left, Marie was stuck at a train station, not even sure exactly where she was.

Though one thing was sure, wherever she was, it was freezing cold. Growing up a southern girl, Marie had been used to long summer days that seemed to go around all year long. Never once had she ever really needed a winter coat; heck, on Christmas day, all she really needed was a light sweater to make for the rest of the day.

So needless to say, the harsh cold wind that whipped at her checks the second she stepped out of the sheltering walls of the train station gave her a shock. Her face fully flushed, she took her first step in snow, the ice automatically melting into her tennis shoe and soaking up on the hem of her jeans.

Hair whipping around her, Marie took in the scenery around her. Where ever she was, it was a small town with a forest flooding around everywhere in the background.

There weren't many options on where to go next, practically none at all. Being a teen runaway wasn't exactly the most thought-out plan in the world. There was no way to predict where she would end up…or worse, what else she would end up doing to survive.

Determined not to let the worst of her situation slow her down, Marie continued walking around the small dirt road until she came upon a small bar. Chances were that they didn't serve much other than liquor, but Marie couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, a fact that her stomach wasn't letting her forget, and that was enough to convince herself to enter the old-broken down shack.

The bar didn't offer any heating and although her green hoodie felt heavy and wet on her shoulders, she resisted taking it off. The place was dark and overcrowded with large men that under any other scenario would have scared her to death, if it weren't for the fact that they all seemed distracted with a cage fight on the other side of the room.

Taking a seat away from prying eyes, Marie settled her duffle bag under her feet, careful to keep the straps locked in between her crossed feet. In this place, she wasn't taking any chances at getting robbed.

Finally after several minutes of distractions from the same fight that had most of his customers attentions, the middle-aged, burly bartender made his way to Marie's corner seat.

Obviously ignoring the fact that she was underage, he placed a small bowl of peanuts from under the counter and asked gruffly, "What'll it be?"

Marie instantly reached for a handful of nuts, shoving them into her mouth, ignoring their odd taste. "Water. I'll just take water." She paused then with an afterthought, added, "Please."

Snorting, the bartender muttered his back to her disgusted, "It'll be tap."

Placing a slightly dirty cup in front of her with strange-tinted water, Marie was once again alone.

And that was when reality really came crashing down on her. That pause in time was finally playing, and the past few days events came flooding in. Cody, her parents, her friends, running away, being a freak.

She was a freak. She had almost killed Cody- oh God, his condition wasn't getting any better from what she had seen…what if she really had killed Cody? What if right now they were burying his body?

She could picture the whole thing. The hot and humid weather would finally crack. The past few days in Mississippi had been cloudy and Marie bet that it was finally raining now. Her town had been long over-due for a rain storm.

Everyone would be wearing black, and the service would be open casket. All of Cody's family and friends would be there to pay their respects to the well-natured neighborhood boy who everyone had seen grow up.

Cody would have his Sunday best on and would have his finger laced together peacefully. When his mother, a woman Marie had once thought of as an aunt, would approach the coffin, her husband would have to grasp her shoulders and try his best to calm her down even while inside he was begging for release from his hell. Cody's mother would run her fingers through her little boy's hair lovingly, hating the coldness she felt on the skin on her finger pads. _Oh_, her little boy… Finally she would have to soak up her sobs as she would be dragged back to their seats by her husband, who was also unwilling to leave his son.

They would all be mourning over him while the local preacher would lead them into prayer and then give a small speech on how Cody was taking so unfairly at such a young age, how he was in a better place and how he would be greatly missed.

Marie's parents would be there too, secretly mourning the loss of their missing daughter. Feeling as horrible as Cody's parents the moment they discovered Marie's hospital bed unattended. Marie was sure they would be looking for her long and hard. Which is why she made sure to go up north as far as possible.

She didn't want her parents to find her. She didn't want them to know what she had done. She didn't want them to know that that she was a freak.

She didn't want them to think she was monster.

Near tears, Marie wiped at her eyes before they could spill. This was her fault, her decision, and she'd be damned before she broke down so quickly.

Taking a swing at her water, she blanched at the taste. She let out a small burp from the mixture of suspicious items she had consumed.

Taking in a deep breath, she leaned her head down on the counter, exhausted. She still had a long way to go and no way of knowing how she was going to get there, but for now, she would allow herself the luxury of a small rest. Somehow she was able to block out the loud crowd that seemed to go crazy with every hit taken, and soon enough, she found herself nodding off to sleep.

Waking up, Marie automatically knew that hours had passed. Maybe it was her groggily eyes that refused to unglue open or the soreness she felt in her muscles from sitting so stiffly for so long. She was sure that if she walked outside the sun would soon start to lower itself below the mountains in the far distance. She gave herself three hours tops before nightfall came.

Stretching, Marie's attention was drawn to two men, over at the other side of the bar. There seemed to be a disagreement between them and Marie couldn't help but sneak glances. Things were getting more rowdy between the two, and soon enough the man behind the bar took out a large rifle and was muttering quickly under his breath.

'Get out of there, Marie.' Someone in the back of her mind urged her to get out of there before things got too messy for her to handle, someone who soundly oddly enough, just like Cody. But her body fell stiff and she pushed the thought to back of her mind. She watched, dazed, as one second the man, the one with dog tags waving from his neck lazily, on the opposite side of the bar calmly stood up and the next, metal claws were drawn out of his knuckles, easily slicing the thick rifle in half.

The breath was knocked out of Marie. This man…this man, he was…he was different, like her. He was just like her.

The last time Logan had been in a place this cold had been last summer. Whether it was a lingering sentiment or just a kink, Logan hated warm places. He was more a winter person himself and liked the kick the cold weather gave to his lungs.

And even more perfect, the town he was passing through was small. Logan didn't particularly like crowds. They overloaded his senses, gave him a reason to twitch at every movement, making him resist the urge to act on instinct. Ever since he had woken up, there was always that little part in the corner of his mind that told him to put up his defensives, telling him to be aware of everything around him.

Walking into a dark pub, Logan was pleased to see a large wire-enclosed cage. Perfect; he could buy a beer and win some money while still in town. It seemed he was always low on cash, no matter how many odd jobs he caught up with here or there.

Logan made his round around the bar, raising bets around him. This was way too easy. Satisfied with his claim to automatic money, he was all set up in no time, drawing a crowd around the poorly-built excuse of a fighting ring.

Roars and cheers from the crowd blasted on and on, all encouraging either one man or the other to knock the other out. Knowing how the game went on, after years of experience, he knew the audience wanted their show. So he allowed a punch or two to from his opponent. There was a sharp pain from where his metal jaw had been dislocated, but he quickly got over it, as he had grown accustom to and snapped his chin back into place. The sickening crackle that went with it was ignored and sooner than normal, Logan was back in the fight.

Grabbing the bulky man by his shoulders, Logan flung him over to the thickly wired wall that separated the fighters from the audience. Hearing the man groan, Logan took it as his cue.

Turning the man over he didn't give him a standing chance to recover before his fist pounded into the other man rib-cage, satisfied when he picked up the faintest sound of a shifting bones. It wasn't something a normal human would have been able to pick up.

His opponent stumbled backwards and the crowds' hoots rang higher and higher.

Sweat gleaming off his forehead, Logan allowed his inhuman side take over for a second, packing in one more punch, and still kicking on the wounded man even after he was on the floor and down for the count.

The urges Logan had gotten to fight weren't too often, but even so, when moments like these came, he was content to know that there was some place he could vent out on and not draw attention.

Raw animalistic pulls were what got him into the fight, it was the simple human nature that begged him to slow down and keep everything cool.

After what seemed like hours later, Logan was able to collect up a suitable amount of money, or at least what would get him through the next couple of towns he would ever so restlessly hit. The day was almost over and outside clouds faded darker and darker.

Ready to pay off his tab from the pervious beers Logan had gulped down in between fights, he was approached by the first man he had taken a beating from in the cage.

The bulky man sneered; his eyes open to the disgust he felt. "No man takes beatings all day long and shows no marks for it." He remarked, leaning in too close for comfort.

Logan rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn around in his seat to get a good look. How many times had this happened to him? Over and over again it was, from all different types of bar or clubs. Fat, over-egoistic small-town hicks with nothing better to do but blame their rivals of cheating instead of taking their losing like the men they at first pretended to be.

Sure Logan knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his inhuman abilities gave him an unfair advantage, but what the hell, since when did he ever decide his life needed more morality in it?

"Just leave it alone, bub." He said loosely, taking another chug of cool beer. He needed to hit the road soon; he didn't have time for this. Besides, the beer in this joint wasn't that good anyways, but he still let it run down his throat for lack of a better offer.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." The man grunted out at Logan, whose eyes where distracted at the cases of beers behind the counter, wondering if he could buy a few on-the-go.

When Logan felt a hand on his shoulder try to force him to turn around, primal instincts were instantly brought back to life from the subconscious part of his mind. He swiftly turned around and gripped the man by his collar and shoved him up a wall. "Listen here, I don't like people giving me trouble," he grinded. "So stay away from me and we won't have any problems."

A shifting bullet and locking of a rifle was heard from behind Logan. "And I don't want any trouble in my bar." The bartender wielding the gun stated. "Freaks aren't welcome here." Logan glanced over his shoulder, displeased at the large barrel pointed at his skull. Not that he couldn't heal from it, he was sure about that but that still didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch when the bullet would first penetrate through his tender flesh and then clash against his metal bone.

Logan growled, a thing he had oddly grown accustom to after many years of animalistic defense building up pressure in his mind and body.

Slowly he extracted his metal claws. One pointed at the hick in front of him, and the other at the bartender. He sliced through the rifle without a second thought, the metal arm falling to the floor in a clutter. The bartender took a step back, suddenly defenseless.

Glaring at the bartender, he retracted his claws, drawing out, "Freaks aren't always the ones who are the problem." Glancing at the man up against the wall, he let loose of his fist and picked up his jacket from his bar stool with the intent of leaving the bar and on second thought, took his half-finished beer along with him.

Maybe it was her sad, pitiful voice whining from behind him or maybe it was that her long dark hair reminded of a person who only came back to haunt him in his dreams, who knows. All Logan knows is that one second he was driving away from her, content with kicking off his unwanted trespasser to the side of the road and then next he was shifting his SUV into reverse, and slowing down so that she could climb into the passenger seat.

His fingers are desperately itching to pull out a cigar and light it up, but he'd run out already and his deprived lungs were killing him.

"What's your name kid?" he asked.

"Rogue." She hadn't known why she said this, but the second it came spilling out of her mouth, she decided that she liked the name, and it was here to stay.

Logan snorted. "Rogue?" he repeated. "What? Were your parents sadists?"

Marie promptly ignored the question. "And what's your name?"

"Wolverine." A grin almost made it to his face at the sound of the idiotic name. It really held no special meaning behind it.

"What kind of name is Wolverine?"

He thought maybe this was her way of getting back at him for making fun of her name, so he humored her, "Logan."

She was silent for a moment, contemplating, and then finally bartered back with, "Marie."

"And what was someone as young as you doing in a bar like that all alone?" he was treading into unmarked waters, and Logan of all people knew what it was like to hold a secret or two and the importance of privacy, but, fuck, if he was to be carrying her around with him for the moment he figured he at least held the right to know a thing or two about her background.

Marie knew she shouldn't be so open about her past, but maybe it was the fact that he was a freak like her that lead to the slow riding slip of tongue. "I ran away."

He grunted in response but didn't press on.

She continued on her own accord. "I think I killed someone." The sentence sounded odd coming from her own mouth. It was her voice, raspy from the harsh weather, that sounded weird to her too.

At this, she drew a reaction from Logan. "I ain't gonna drive you from place to place so you can go on a killing spree, kid." His fingers gripped harder on the steering wheel.

"It's not like that." she chided. Her voice dropped to a whisper and her voice choked up. "It was an accident." It was still her fault; her conscious made sure to remind her of that.

"If it was an accident, then why'd ya run away?"

"Because I'm a freak." She continued with strain. She sank into her seat, pulling her hoodie tighter around her, still not used to the cold that drifted from the outside. She rubbed her hands together, hoping to create friction through her gloves.

"What did you do?" the question was extremely personal and uncalled for.

But she answered it anyways. "I'm not exactly sure." She paused, "But…it had something to do with my skin…"

Logan snorted again. "Skin? Really kid?"

"Something bad happens when I have skin-to-skin contact with someone."

This peak up his interest. "Something bad?" he made the silent urge for her to continue.

"I hurt them." This second reality splash really wasn't something she wanted to deal with right then and there. "It's like I'm drawing their life, or energy, or whatever, into myself. It's like I'm sucking the life right out of them." Horrid memories of realization from the hospital were ruthlessly flashing through her head. "It only happens when I touch them though…" she repeated, if only to reassure herself. She didn't know the extent of her curse and had no clue if this was only where her nightmare started.

Logan remained silent. "It wasn't your fault then." And he wondered if what he had done in that island all that time ago hadn't been his fault too.

"I don't think that's something anyone else but you would say." He probably had to agree with her on that. "That's why I can't go home."

And maybe it was sympathy or maybe it was that he was so lonely, but later, when night fell, and he was finally too tired to drive, he slept in the front seat, allowing her the small cot in his filthy trailer instead of dumping her at the nearest gas station like he had originally intended to do.

**Extra** **Note**: For those of you who so kindly plan on reviewing, please tell me, other than the obvious Rogue and Remy pairing, what other couples/friendships would you like to see in here? It's all up for grabs until the next chapter is completely written. All suggestions welcome. Also, would you guys like a more detailed summary, so you can get a sense of where this story is going? Let me know, because after this chapter, things will go in a different direction from the movie plot.


	3. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Antihero

**Summary**: The slightest change can rewrite an entire lifetime.

**Rating/Warnings**: T (for tantalizing?); average Logan-style fighting, nothing too big, and a little bit of profanity too.

**Authors'** **Notes**:

I am so sorry for the lack of updates. Life has been hectic. But since it is summer, I can 100 percent guarantee to you wonderful reviewers that this will be frequently updated all throughout June, July and most of August. :-) Also, all reviews will be replied to soon! –**Alysa**

**Standard Disclaimer Applied. **

**Thanks** **to**: Sledgehammer, cajunette, Catlady172, kshrimp, PepsiCrush, Hawaiichick, Blitz182, Dark, Laceylou76, Ace, AshmandaLC, Bologna121, gambitfan85, CaptMacKenzie, ChamberlinofMusic, bri419, ishandahalf, Bloodypassion, water raven, Sweetcornbee, Bellkie, southernbelle22, and Eagle-Black for reviewing and everyone else who put this story on 'Alert.'

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Chapter Two:

* * *

Within the next couple of months Rogue learned a number of things that she was sure her Christian parents would definitely not approve of. And as it turned out, she had a particular talent for hustling. Logan would comment at times: "You're a natural, kid" and leave her beaming, counting all the money they had made from their recent cage-fighting exploitation. It hadn't been too long before Rogue got used to bar-hopping all over Canada. In fact, she wouldn't even be lying if she said that she had grown fond of the smell of cigar and liquor. Call it a substitute home, but soon she had grown content with her life with Logan.

It was the complete opposite of what she was usually used to. She traded in sun dresses and days by the river for her long, dark green trench coat, leather gloves and nights sipping coke by the bar, waiting for Logan to finish up his latest fight, and rake in the money.

They travelled by the day, taking a few breaks between their aimless destinations. Logan taught her to play poker (his disgust evident when she asked, baffled, what a 'royal flush' was) and bluff like her life depended on it. Eventually she was able to beat him a couple of times, though he quickly put an end to that, stating that he wouldn't go on if she got a big head.

By her eleventh month on the road, she was itching to get her hands on the stirring wheel of his truck. She would hint at this a couple of times during the day, hoping that he would catch on. Logan wasn't one for subtly though and finally grunted out, "Fuck kid, if you've got something to say then just fucking say it."

The second she uttered the words "try" and "driving" in the same sentence, he cut her off, "No."

"Logan!"

"No."

"I could help with the driving shifts."

"No."

"Please?"

"Fuck. No."

She slumped in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, and muttered about what an asshole he was and how he treated his crap of a vehicle like a fucking baby.

"Kid." He shut her up. "Next stop, you'll take off onto the road for five minutes, but that's it."

Marie knew when to keep her mouth shut and only nodded happily in agreement.

* * *

It wasn't that he had grown fond of the kid, or any shit like that. Fuck that emotion crap, he had just gotten used to her company. And it also helped that her big brown eyes seemed to draw in the ruthless gamblers whenever he staged a fight.

It was only during the nights when they didn't hit the bar that things ever grew uncomfortable.

His small cot was dirty, hell, he'd admit that, but it wasn't unbearable, so he sure as fuck wasn't gonna stop and waste money on a run-down motel. No, he had first figured, she's do just fine lying in a separate twin mattress.

And their sleeping arrangements were fine: he'd stay on his side and she's stay on hers (though technically the whole trailer's 'side' was _his _and she was just lucky he was so fucking generous), until they both came to the realization that neither one of them actually could ever sleep peacefully. It seemed to be another thing they had in common, he figured, both of them running away from the nightmares they could never seem to get rid of.

Their first night together had ended in disaster, with his claws shoved right through her chest and her falling atop of him, bare skin hitting his shoulder and chest. It was then that he was able to experience the tragedy of her curse first-hand. It wasn't peasant. It was just like drowning. You struggle and struggle to reach a surface that never seemed to be in actual sight, all while only making it worse and pulling yourself back into this pool of black.

They didn't talk to each other the next day; her guilt too heavy, he figured; but she was also too nervous to ask to be dropped off in the middle of an abandon old trail-road.

Finally, it was him that broke the silence. "Rogue. Let it go." His grip was hard on the stirring wheel, though probably not for the reason she figured.

"I can't…I just... I didn't mean to…" She was curling into herself again, he could see that.

"I know you didn't; it was an accident. That's the thing. You have this…power now, and you're just gonna have to get used to it, just like I got used to mine. These things are going to happen. You've just gotta learn how not to let it ruin your fucking life, ya know?" He chuckled humorously.

She played with a strand of hair before tucking it in behind her ear hesitantly. "I saw everything you know…"

He took his eyes off the road for a split second and glanced at the young girl next to him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I saw the men with the lab coats, I saw the metal, I saw the dead woman, I saw the destruction, I saw the confusion. Logan, I saw everything." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Logan tensed, not used to the mention of all that he had kept silent about for who know how many years. For once he was at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry for stealing it from you. I didn't mean to." She said lowly.

Logan's heart rate sped up; his burden was now hers. She would always have a piece of him in her.

"What's done is done, kid. We've gotta do what we gotta do and that's move on. You don't ever have to apologize for what you do. Remember that."

She nodded silently, and that was that.

* * *

It wasn't long after that that the nightmares started. His were on occasion, only occurring every few other nights, while hers were every night: sometimes about his memoires, and sometimes about some boy named 'Cody.' She would mumble his name in her sleep and shift from side to side.

He never woke her up. No, he knew that if he did she would never be able to live it down. It was something of an imaginary line that they knew never to cross with one another. They both heard the sleepless nights taunting the other, but both, without really acknowledging it, made a pact to let the other one be. They realized the personal cautiousness of the subject. So it always remained taboo.

* * *

They were out on the open road once again, fresh off the local bar. Marie had been tired from the hours that had seemed to run extra long the previous night. She yawned loudly, stretching on her arm, and groaning when her stitched coat hindered her movements.

"The fuck kid? Here you are all bitching and yawning and you really expect me to trust you behind the wheel of my truck?" Logan grunted.

"It's not my fault I'm tired. You're the one who decided you wanted extra money for _beer _and had to go and pull and all-nighter." She snapped, her nose wrinkling in digust.

"Don't knock the beer unless you've tried it."

"I'm underage Logan." She stated deadpan.

"Don't worry," he mocked, rolling his eyes. "I won't tell your parents."

There was a small moment of silence before she replied, "Well excuse me for not wanting to drown my liver in alcoholic beverages."

"Not a problem with my abilities kid." He smirked. "It's all good going down."

She sneered, her southern accent running a little bit thick as she clipped the subject off short. "When do we hit the next town?"

He shrugged. "It should be a good thirty minutes away from here. Why?"

"I need to stop at a Laundromat again." She hunched down in her seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard. "I've run out of clean clothes."

"Already?" he barked. "It's barely been two weeks!"

"I can't wear the same clothes from the previous night like you do." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I actually care about my hygiene."

He was ready to take a crack at her, lighten the situation up, when a tree, appearing to have fallen from the side of the road, crashed down right in front of the truck.

Logan slammed down on the brakes, but was too late. The vehicle slammed harshly into the thick trunk, its force causing Marie and Logan to be yanked out of their seats and head-bashed into the front windshield.

The hit, for the most part, was harmless, only really cutting up Logan, whose skin quickly mended itself.

Marie breathed in deeply, shaken up from the whiplash. "What in the world was that?" she groaned, unbuckling herself from her seatbelt in an attempt to stretch out her body.

Logan wiped away the blood from his forehead and check, smudging the color away with his sleeve. "I don't know what the fuck that –" his words were cut off as a slam from the back rocked the truck.

For a split second neither of the two said a word. Logan tensed up, his body's instinct automatically telling him he needed to be on guard. He could feel his body instantly grow anxious and his claws shifting within his knuckles.

"Stay here and don't move." He hissed lowly under his breath. He slowly opened his side door and stepped down on the snow-covered ground.

"Logan!" Marie leaned over to his side on her seat, head still dizzy from the hit. "Logan!" she whispered. "You can't leave me here!"

He snapped back at her. "Shut the fuck up and get down, I don't want you to get—" the air was knocked right out of him as he was shoved down to the ground by a large man.

"The fuck-?" he shouted, as his metal claws extracted themselves from his knuckles. His hands curled into fists and he instantly sprang up. His arm arched back and the metal cut forward, jutting into the man's check.

The large man's hand reached up, his thick fingers curling around Logan's wrist as his smiled sadistically and with a swift yank of his hand, pulled Logan's hand down, effectively bringing down the metal knives down and through his jaw so that it hung limply off a thread of flesh.

The man stepped out of reach and stared at Logan; his beady eyes dark and soulless, he never broke off eye contact as he, unaffected by the grotesque injury that literally hung down to his upper chest, reached to his jaw and promptly lifted it back up to his head. There, he held it for a second, connecting the cut and damaged skin, allowing it to patch up.

It was then Logan knew he was in for the fucking fight of his life. This man had the healing factor.

Logan slowly, without taking his eyes off his opponent, turned his head towards Marie, barely glancing at the girl, "Get of here kid!" he yelled.

"Logan!"

The man grinned, taking a threatening step towards the thrilled fighter. "Marie! Don't argue with me!"

"But Logan-!" she hurriedly climbed over her seat onto his.

The man charged. "Run!"

So she did.

* * *

**Extra Note: **Please read the Author's Note at the top. Thanks. And be sure to drop a review (I would really like an honest review on this chapter, as it felt rushed, and well, for a lack of a better word, just, well, _icky_.) And well, I wonder who Marie is going to go to for help. ;-) And since I have a plot all figured out, I've got to say, I'm really excited for our villain to come out. He's a personal favorite of mine!


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